Broken
by Dmc Fan
Summary: ONESHOT. He had lost. Mundus had won. But why was he still alive? Please review?


Disclaimer: I don't own devil may cry.

_Drip, drip, drip._

Complete darkness. The water still continued to fall, sounding strangely hollow as it echoed through the waves of black. Then a speck of light, small but grew continually larger. The dark of the unknown receded as the dim light swelled to fill every space.

The man opened his eyes, struggling to throw of the chains of unconsciousness. Even in the dim light his eyes hurt after being under for so long. In fact, everywhere hurt. The man moaned quietly as he recalled recent events. He tried to lift a pale hand to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes but it jarred against hard metal bonds that shackled him to the wall. The prisoner jerked his head in an attempt to shake the platinum hair away from his face but only succeeded in shaking more strands fall forwards.

Suddenly the drips were cut off. The man froze. The eerie drips resumed but the man did not relax. Blue eyes darted around what appeared to be a dungeon, searching for the source of the noise. He disgusting himself by solving the problem, blood was dripping from an open wound in his side.

The captive frowned slightly. The wound should have healed by now. Obviously he had taken worse injuries than he had originally thought. The man almost laughed. Well, he had taken on the demon king, what did he expect? It was surprising that he was still alive and he was complaining about one wound that wouldn't heal? Briefly the prisoner wondered why he hadn't been killed yet, but it was an easy question. By demon law the winner of a fight owned the loser's life. After all the trouble he had caused before the fight the king probably wanted to have some fun with him, namely torture.

Eventually, when the ruler of the underworld grew bored of him, he would die a painful, dishonourable death. The man closed his eyes again. He remembered how he had been before the battle, arrogant and extremely sure of himself. Now he was a pathetically weak prisoner bleeding over the floor of his cell. Still, he had been weak before the battle had even started; Mundus had won in under ten minutes. He was a fool to think that he could have defeated the demon king. The man berated himself silently; a fool.

The prisoner tensed as he heard a noise over the incessant drip of blood, coming from behind the door of his cell. Guard demons were muttering among themselves. From what he could translate out of the demon tongue he realised that someone was coming to get him. The demons hissed something else and laughed; something about a sword and a blood ritual. That didn't sound good. The man opened his eyes again, the light making him wince.

He needed to get out of here. Even as the thought crossed his mind the captive dismissed it. He was weak, not healing properly and in the dungeons of a castle swarming with demons. Even the world's best gambler would have cringed at the odds of him making it out alive, let alone in one piece. To top it all his weapons were somewhere else in the castle, probably being sold at high prices to enemies of the Sparda name.

The cell temperature dropped suddenly, the room crackling with pure energy. The man stiffened. Once he had been in awe of the power that Mundus possessed. Now he just feared it. The door swung open silently and the demon king stepped in. He moved slowly towards the man chained to the wall and uttered a low hiss of delight. The prisoner flinched and tried to press his head back, trying to get as far away as possible, which wasn't far considering the fact that he was manacled to the wall.

"So….." Mundus began, relishing the fear threatening to overwhelm the half-breed before him. "Son of Sparda…. You truly thought that you could defeat me? There's a reason why I'm the ruler of the underworld you know." He extended a long talon and ran it down the captive's cheek. The man jerked his face away to one side. Mundus growled and gripped his chin, forcing the prisoner to meet his eye.

"Don't resist, you know you've already lost. You had lost as soon as you entered the demon world." Mundus hissed. "You are mine by demon law, and you will do as I tell you. Is that understood?" He let go and the man bowed his head in defeat. Mundus smirked and with a wave of his hand the chains binding the man to the wall vanished. The prisoner just managed to keep himself from collapsing and massaged his wrists, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Look at me." Mundus ordered. "Strange as it may seem, you have a choice. You can accept me as your master and be my personal slave…" The prisoner's eyes widened slightly as the demon king smiled evilly. "Or you can remain defiant, staying down here until your pitiful body breaks under torture." He shrugged. "Either way is fine by me. I'll give you time to think about it." With that Mundus swept out of the door and the captive was left on his own again in the cell. He slumped against the wall and sank to the ground, his head in his hands.

I'll leave you to decide whether it was Vergil or Dante. Review?


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